Raven Squadron
by Renz
Summary: SatAM. The King has returned, the war has escalated. A stalemate has been reached and now the fate of the world lies in the hands of a few good Mobians. A story of Tails, and highspeed air combat in the sky above Mobius.


Well, this is something I have kinda been toying with for a while. Inspired by watching too many movies and reading 'Double Eagle' by Dan Abnett (awesome book), I thought to myself- if Tails is such a good pilot, then how come there are so few fics where he uses this talent?

So, I sorta wrote this. Whilst I have planned out the world around it (and how Tails, Sonic and Sally got into this situation- this is not entirely an AU, strictly speaking, but is a dark twist on SatAM), I don't intend to add a lot more right now. I have Spyder to finish first, but if the response is good then I will probably delve into it a bit more.

Besides, writing a dogfight is too much fun to leave alone forever...

Anywho, enjoy. And my sincere apologies to those waiting for the next chapter of Spyder- it is on it's way, I assure you.

**Freedom Fighters: Raven Squadron**

6:30AM, Wednesday morning, early summer. Clear sky, a beautiful sunrise, thin wisps of clouds streaking the blue. It was a beautiful sight and a beautiful feeling to be alive. And Lieutenant Miles 'Tails' Prower couldn't get enough of it.

He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, and looked down to the earth. Equally beautiful, lush green grass and trees waving gently in the cool breeze. This, he thought, is what living was all about. Moments like these.

It was times like this when he could almost believe that the Kingdom was not still at war. A short glance to his right, he knew, would dispel that naive idea; an anti-aircraft battery, crewless yet still intimidating, was waiting there for the call to arms.

And a bit further from that was the rest of the airbase.

But if he stayed as he was, then he could enjoy his peace for a few moments more. He often came outside like this in the morning. It was his sanctuary from the madness of war, and it gave him space to think. Most of the time he spent it wondering if this was what it was like before the war began.

His squadron thought he was crazy to get up this early so often. Tails found it sad in a way that they did not understand, but he would not force them to get up earlier than they needed to if they didn't want to. He would not deny them their simple pleasures, because that wouldn't be fair.

After all... Any flight could be their last.

His watch beeped, and he cursed silently. Briefing was in fifteen minutes. Time to go.

He took one last look to the sky, the tranquil air being shattered by the whine of a set of jet engines. A Thunderbolt fighter flew by overhead, and Tails silently watched it go.

He would be up there soon.

He turned, and with weight beyond his years settling on to his shoulders once more, made his way to the barracks without looking back. The quickest way, he knew, was through the hanger where his squadron's craft were housed and serviced by ground crew. It was there that his journey was interrupted.

"Lieutenant Prower!"

He stopped and immediately stood to attention, facing his commanding officer, Commander David Fletcher. Broad shoulders, a creased face and a walking stick for support, age had not been good to the bear. He was tall and intimidating, but Tails knew not to be frightened. He knew that the commander respected him.

Tails gave a smart salute, which Fletcher returned casually.

"At ease Lieutenant, how are you this morning?"

Tails restrained a sigh. "Good, sir. You?"

"Tired, of course! I've just been working with some of your new pilots; I have them here to introduce to you, they've already met the rest of your squadron."

"You woke them up, didn't you?" he said, allowing a small grin.

"Yes, they were surprised." You know that isn't good enough Prower. They should be ready for duty earlier than this."

"Yes sir."

"Well, here they are. I'm sure you got the memo- time to put names to faces. Pilots Simpson, Cain, Parker, Damon, Ferrell, this is Lieutenant Miles Prower, Raven Leader."

Immediately, the new pilots stepped into line and snapped into a sharp salute. Tails took one look at them before turning back to Fletcher.

"Can I speak to you alone, sir?"

The bear looked at him, knowing immediately what was wrong. Well, probably, he reasoned.

"You should give your orders first, Lieutenant."

Well. Give orders and enforce the idea that they were part of his squadron? He didn't want to.

There was a moment of silence. The bear stared him out.

"Prower..." he muttered.

Damn.

He glanced once more at the reinforcements. "Go to your quarters," he said. Their salutes faltering, gazes uncertain, the parade they had obviously been practising was falling apart. But it didn't matter- a smart salute didn't impress him anyway.

"Now," he added, and they realised he was serious. They quickly left through the door that led to the barracks, occasionally looking back at him and Fletcher, talking quietly amongst themselves. Once they had gone, Tails wasted no time in voicing his concerns.

"Who are those kids?" he said flatly.

"Your reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? It's only been three months since the last time."

"And, as I recall, Pilot Tyler is the only member of your squadron from that group who is still capable of flying."

"Yeah, that's right, the rest are either dead or crippled. You know why? They only had six months of training. You can't teach someone how to properly fly a thunderbolt in six months, never mind fight in one. And you're giving me kids who have had to do both in _three_?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Prower. You have talent, and you've got luck. You may be a squadron leader, but don't forget that you are only 23, and as far as I'm concerned you are still a kid yourself. Think about this; what if one of your team dies tomorrow? You will only have three pilots left to fly with you. At that strength, against Robotnik you won't be much use to anyone."

"Sir," Tails said, doing his best to reign in his anger, "they're all going to die. They need more training."

"Experience is the best teacher, Tails," Fletcher said. "They will be fine today, if you do your job correctly and look after them. Today's briefing is in ten minutes- and I expect all ten members of Raven Squadron to be there."

Tails closed his eyes and sighed. There was no point in arguing. He would not win, anyway.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Carry on, Lieutenant."

Tails watched the commander go. Three months of training. The new pilots would be lucky to touch the ground alive.

He noticed then that a number of the ground crew were looking at him, though pretending not to be looking at him.

"You alright sir?" he heard one of them, Geoff, say. He glanced at the mouse.

"Fine. Thanks."

He continued on towards his pilots' quarters. Time to say hello to the fresh meat.

----------

"Good morning," Fletcher said from the head of the briefing room, nodding towards the assembled pilots of Raven Squadron. Tails was the only one not to respond, and whether that was because of his odd, quasi-casual relationship with the bear or for the sick feeling in his stomach he did not know.

"Today's mission is of the utmost importance. Some members of the royal family- namely, the Princess, her husband, their son and a number of their entourage, are making their way here for what I am told is part of a new plan to defeat Robotnik."

"What?" Tails immediately said, his voice rising over the confused murmurs of his squadron. "The heirs to the throne are coming _here_?"

"Yes. A... strange move, I agree," Fletcher conceded. "But it is not my place to question the wisdom of it. And it's not yours either," he added as his eyes swept over the pilots. Tails' mouth snapped shut. "They are on their way directly from New Mobotropolis, and we only discovered this for ourselves a few hours ago. You, Raven Squadron, are to provide escort during their approach."

Right on que, the lights dimmed and a map on the wall behind the commander illuminated. As he spoke, blips representing different craft began to appear.

"Here is the surrounding region. The Royal Transport will approach us from the south east, here. It has an escort, four long range Vultures. Note that these will be low on fuel when you meet them, so do not rely on them should any trouble occur.

"Raven Squadron will rendezvous with the royal transport here, approximately 78 minutes before their scheduled landing. This section of the flight is the most dangerous- should Robotnik make an attack, this will be his best opportunity."

"What is the risk of attack?" Tails asked, absorbing the information.

"Fairly low. As soon as we heard of Princess Acorn's plan to come here, the 38th Marauder Bomber squadron was scrambled to make a raid on the nearest known enemy airbase. They have reported a successful mission and believe it will be out of action for at least a couple of days... Of course, they could be wrong. Stay alert.

"Form up around the transport, and escort them home. Once they have landed you will be given clearance to land yourselves, after which you are to report here for debriefing. Is that understood?"

There was a general consensus. No questions- the mission was fairly simple, and apparently was going to be little more than a milk run. At least it would be according to the 38th.

But Tails would not believe that all would go well. He couldn't. Besides, experience had taught him that if something could go wrong, then it probably would.

"Good," Fletcher finished. "Then get yourselves ready and get to your planes. Good luck."

----------

Fully changed into his jump suit and boots, Tails eyed the new pilots carefully.

"So. What do you think?"

None of them answered for a while, preferring to look amongst themselves. Tails was okay with that- he'd probably be in the same state, were he one of them.

Once ready, Rachel Simpson voiced her thoughts. She was a slim, attractive white rabbit who bore the faintest trace of a blush. Well, it was not surprising seeing as this was her first time. These changing rooms were not designed to cater for two sexes; the squadron changed together.

"...we should be okay. We passed training easily, our instructor told us we all had talent."

"Yeah! Highest marks on the exam!" Damon said.

"I've heard that before," Tails replied calmly. "From her." He nodded at Kathryn Tyler, a mongoose, who sat on her part of the bench, also watching the new pilots.

"It doesn't mean anything," she said flatly. "Take my word for it."

Damon looked at her, one eyebrow raised, wondering- but he did not ask anything, just resumed getting changed. Tails waited for them all to finish.

"Apparently we can expect the skies to be quiet today- if the bombers from the 38th managed to cause as much damage as they said they did, then we should be okay. Of course, if they didn't then we can expect hell. Robotnik won't pass an opportunity to kill the heirs to the throne. Which means, despite what Commander Fletcher said, I want you all to be alert and ready. Are there any questions?"

Trent, Raven Two, raised a furred hand. "This seems like kind of a bad idea, doesn't it?" the dog said. "The heirs to the throne, coming to a frontline airbase?"

"The royal family visiting a frontline airbase. Yep, it's a stupid idea," Tails agreed.

"Then what are they doing it for? I don't know about you guys, but 'a new idea' doesn't cut it for me." Tyler added.

"Aurora knows. Probably some new strategy. It has to be important, else they wouldn't be coming," He responded, and nodded to the new pilots. "Maybe it's why you folks have been added so suddenly. Anyway, we'll find out eventually. And if we don't, then there's nothing we need to worry about because it won't concern us.

"Right, anything else?"

No one else had anything to ask, but the new pilot still looked nervous. And Damon looked excited too- that was bad.

"Good. Now, I'm going to pair all of you up. " He nodded again to the kids. "You new folks are each going to have a veteran to take care of you. Raven Six, Miss Simpson, you're with me. Seven, Cain, you're with Two. Eight, you're with Three. Nine... Damon, calm down. You're with-" he though for a moment. The boy needed someone who could relax him a tad. "Five, Tyler. Ten, stick with Four."

They all nodded and began to stand, moving to be with their partners.

"Look after each other," he said. "Now... lets go."

They left the changing room and entered the hanger, walking purposefully to their Thunderbolts. Tails ignored the thoughts that for many of them- heck, even for him, these could be their last moments on solid ground.

He'd never liked the ground, anyway.

In moments he was climbing into the cockpit of his Thunderbolt heavy fighter. The plane was a strange design, appearing to be a fusion of old propeller based aircraft and the more recent futuristic jet designs. It's basic appearance was that of an old propeller fighter, but rather than having a nose mounted engine it had a pair of jet turbines running down either side of the fuselage between the body and the wings. The nose bore an assortment of guns, some solid-slug and others laser based, mounted there apparently to make the craft more stable. And to compliment them, under the slightly bent gull-wings, were four hard points for additional fuel, bombs, or as in this case, missiles. It was in no way smoothly shaped- it was very angular, some would say ugly. But its performance could not be disputed. It was solid, dependable, and whilst not as manoeuvrable as some of Robotnik's craft it could still hold it's own in a dogfight and take a great deal more punishment than any other fighter around.

Tails dropped down into his seat and began his pre-flight checks, ignoring the empty seat behind him. He preferred to fly alone but sometimes having a co-pilot was necessary. If he was flying a bombing sortie, for example, the co-pilot would have the duty of handling the payload- but in a dogfight they wouldn't be of too much use, merely serving to make the plane heavier.

Tails checked the plane schematics on the on-board computer, poised just above his legs. Full of fuel, ammo and oxygen, engines warm and ready. The targeting system scanned itself for faults and found none. It was looking good.

Tails allowed himself a small smile as he put on his helmet and placed the air mask over his muzzle, radio crackling to life. He knew that he may fight today and that if he did, someone would probably die- but he felt more at home in the air then he did on land. He always had, and likely he always would.

He slid the canopy shut and locked it closed, the engine whine becoming louder. The ground crew were clearing the building and the stocks had been taken away from his wheels.

"Raven Leader, this is control, radio testing. Comeback."

"Copy that control, this is Raven Leader. I read you loud and clear."

He listened as the radio check cycled through the rest of the squadron. It was an open line, so everyone could hear everyone else, which made life easier- provided that everyone didn't talk at once.

Hopefully, the new pilots were well drilled enough to know that.

"Raven Leader, this is control. We show all status as green. You are clear to taxi to runway two, over."

"Copy that control," he said, pushing forwards ever so slightly on the throttle. He felt the Thunderbolt begin to move, slowly towards the open hanger door. The squadron followed his lead, organising themselves into a line in order of their number.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked. "Any problems, I don't care how small."

There was a general approval which, as far as he was concerned, was a good start.

"Good. Any problems, let me know immediately."

He was approaching runway two, running smoothly over the tarmac. He settled himself at the south end, turning to point his nose down its length. Out of the corner of his canopy, he could see the squadron patiently waiting their turns.

"Raven flight, you are clear for take-off. Good luck up there."

"Thank you control," Tails responded. "See you when we get back."

He pushed the throttle forwards slowly, and the Thunderbolt immediately responded. The acceleration pushed him back into his seat as he got faster.

A chime signalled. He had reached airspeed. Just a bit more...

He pulled back on the yoke gently, and the nose rose. The plane soared gracefully from the airbase into the air.

"Raven Leader airborne," he said.

----------

The air control tower was somewhere that Commander Fletcher preferred to spend most of his time- partially out of necessity, but also partially because it was cooler than anywhere else in the base. Built higher than any other building to gain a view of all runways, it was always caught in a light breeze. And Fletcher hated the heat of summer.

He stood on the balcony, arms braced against the iron railings, watching various day-to-day activities play out. Fighters came and went on their patrols, crew scurried around to keep the birds operational. It was a strange balance of frantic action and perfect coordination- and today, there was more to the madness. They were preparing for their visitors.

In front of one of the hangers they had cleared a space, red carpet and all, leading into the base. To either side a number of Marauder bombers had been drawn up as though saluting towards where the royal plane was scheduled to be taxied to.

"Sir?"

He felt a presence next to him, and glanced over to see Lieutenant Barby Koala standing to attention.

"Yes, Lieutenant Koala?"

"Sir, preparations are complete. We're ready to greet the Royal Family."

Excellent. They weren't scheduled to land for an hour yet.

"Good work."

"Commander Fletcher!" a voice suddenly interrupted, coming from the balcony doorway from one of the flight control staff. He ignored it.

"Be sure that all your staff are in full uniform when the time comes, Lieutenant. Meanwhile, double-check everything. I want no mistakes."

"Yes sir. Sir...?"

"I heard him. You have your orders, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

She turned crisply and left. He watched her go.

"Commander Fletcher?" the voice came again, closer now. Fletcher drew himself up to his full height as he faced the young dingo. The boy stopped abruptly.

"Ralph Spears. Think of where you are. You are in the control tower of Charles Field, the current most important location for His Majesty's war effort on Mobius. Information is not, and I repeat, is not, simply shouted across the balcony."

Spears swallowed. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Good. Now, report."

"Sir. We have just received a transmission from Paladin Squadron, they have been engaged by hostile forces."

"Robotnik?"

"Yes sir, two full squadrons of Air-Combots."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Alert Raven Squadron. Move them to assist immediately."

"Yes sir."

The young dingo made his way back inside, and Fletcher found himself frowning.

The young dingo.

'_Too young'_, he thought, following the boy inside and casting his gaze over all of his control staff.

That was the problem with the military today. The first war with Robotnik had thinned the ranks tremendously. Fletcher himself had been one of those robotisized for a time before the Freedom Fighters had first defeated the madman, but not everyone had been so lucky. Most officers had been killed instead and now younger, inexperienced soldiers had to fill the void. He only had a few decent mobians under his command who had truly earned their rank- Lieutenant Koala, 37 years old, was one of these.

But he would have to make do.

Besides, some of the young bloods did have a bit of skill and had earned their station. And, thank Aurora, one of them would be protecting the heirs to the throne today.

----------

"Raven flight, this is control. What is your position?"

Tails was a little surprised at the sudden voice. He'd been alert, as he knew he always had to be, but once the flight time had reached one hour he had begun to get lost in the sound of the turbines cutting through the cold air.

"Control, this is Raven Leader," he replied as he brought up the mission schematics on his targeting computer. A purple dot appeared on his HUD, marking his destination. "We are nearly 3000 meters from waypoint 13, grid reference 55-12. We should be making our rendezvous with the royal transport in about fourteen minutes."

"Copy that, Raven Leader. Abandon waypoint 13, we are sending you new coordinates. Follow them immediately and maintain your current speed."

The purple blip disappeared, being replaced moments later by a new one to the left.

"Understood control, correcting course. Raven squadron, maintain formation. Follow my lead."

He pressed on the rudder and the Thunderbolt responded. The squadron followed, slipstream trailing from the tips of their wings.

"Control, why the change?" he asked, curious. Had the Queen been delayed?

"Raven Squadron, this is Commander Fletcher," came a new voice over the com. Tails suddenly felt very cold. "The royal escorts have been attacked by some of Robotnik's drones. The royal transport itself has managed to pull a distance away but it has pursuers. You are to engage the pursuers and eliminate them."

"Wait, how can Robotnik attack the transport?" came a voice from Raven Three. "Hadn't the 38th sorted that for us?"

"Come on Darren," Tails said. "You didn't really believe that, did you?" The comment was not lost on the commander.

"There was always a risk Prower. Raven Squadron, the King's life is in your hands. I trust you will all do your duty. May Aurora be with you."

"Copy that," Tails ground out as he cut the link. So the new pilots were going to fight on their virgin runs?

Yes, it was for Sonic and Sally, and he had no hesitation in moving to defend them. Honour demanded him to do so. Duty demanded him to do so. But he still felt ill at the prospect of the kids going into live combat already.

"Aurora be with us," he muttered to himself.

----------

Out of the canopy, far ahead and about 1000 metres below them, Tails caught sight of a glint of metal in the sunlight. Around it danced shards of silver; enemy fighters duelling with what remained of its escorts.

That had to be it.

He reached forward to one of the controls, flicked it quickly to open a com-link with the craft, hoping that it was still in good enough shape to respond.

"Royal, this is Lieutenant Prower of Raven Squadron, approaching on your 11 bearing... uh, 336 degrees. Can you hear me? Comeback."

"-ven Squadron!" a voice blurted back through the radio. "Glad you're here, we've taken a beating, we can't seem to pull away from them!"

"Don't worry," Tails said as calmly as he could, doing his best to ignore the adrenaline pumping into his system. "We're here to assist. What's your status?"

"We're leaking some fuel, cut it down as much as we can. We should be able to make it home if you keep us safe-"

And therein was the problem.

"Raven Squadron!" he snapped into his com, cutting the pilot off. "Check weapons, we're going in hot! Stay with me, dive in on them, arrowhead formation! All craft report in!"

He began to activate various runes and dials on his control panel, lights blinking on his HUD. There was a slight whine in the air and the smell of ozone filled the tiny cockpit as the energy weapons came on-line. A _click-runk _signalled that the twin solid-slug .70 calibre cannons on the nose of his Thunderbolt were prepared, too.

"Raven Two, weapons live, standing by," Trent voiced over the com.

"Raven Three, weapons live, ready to go," Darren said.

"Raven Four, guns ready, on your order," Faye chimed.

"Raven Five, I'm ready, standing by," Kathryn finished for them.

And then the fresh meat called in. Tails glanced around at them, visible, barely, if he leant forwards to get an angle where he could see behind him.

"Raven Six, weapons live, standing by." Simpson. She was falling out of formation, slightly, but doing her best to stay with them.

"Raven Seven, weapons live, standing by." Cain. He was going too slow. He sounded nervous- perhaps the reality of the situation was hitting home.

"Raven Eight, weapons live, standing by." Parker. He was doing well. In formation, mostly, sounding calm. Tails didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Raven Nine, weapons ready, standing by! Let's get them!" Damon. Too excited. He was going too fast.

"Raven Ten, weapons live, standing by." Ferrell. His angle was too steep. He was going to fly under the fight.

This was not going to go well.

"Maintain formation! Accelerate to attack speed," Tails said, pushing up the throttle ever to slightly. He could see the enemy clearly now; about thirteen bats, looping and twisting as they went about their work. One of the two escorts burst into flames. "Pick your targets well, let's show Robotnik what we're made of! If you have problems, alert me immediately, break, and go home!"

"Give 'em hell Ravens!" he heard the royal pilot should over the radio. Damn straight he thought.

"For Aurora and the Walkers!" he called, vaguely hearing his squadron respond in kind. They burst into the melee like lightning.

Tails broke formation almost immediately, targeting one of Robotnik's fighters that had put too much attention on the royal transport. Caught completely unawares, his first volley of laser fire tore it apart, sending debris scattering in all directions. He followed through the kill, dodging the transport by meters, and pulled back to circle out wide.

One of the Thunderbolts, he saw, let a blast of light loose from the nose. His eyes were stung- that much energy in one go? The fool had just set his laser guns to full power.

"Leader, watch it, heavy fire point 3 degrees from your nose!"

"I see it Five," Tails replied, ducking sharply to avoid the burst of fire. He rolled about, under the transport now, looking for a target.

"Sir!" Damon. "I'm- I'm low on ammo!"

So Nine was the one who had screwed up.

"Don't worry. Switch to solid guns. Be certain of your shots."

A bat graced his sights. He twisted about tightly and pulled back to track it, tucking in neatly onto it's six. He winced as the Gs pushed his air mask into his face.

Robotnik's fighters, sleek, fast, very manoeuvrable. Coining their nickname from their appearance, they were cunning, being programmed to take advantage of their strengths over conventional fighters- they were smaller because they did not have to accommodate for a real pilot. They were, like all of Robotnik's troops, robots. And that put them at a slight disadvantage. They did as told; they could not think for themselves.

But they were still bastards to hit.

Tails kept up with the bat as best he could, following it as it weaved a wild trail through the sky. Pulling wide turns and tight rolls, his Thunderbolt strained to keep up.

His HUD beeped every time it got close to his sights. _'Target denied'_ flashed at him out of the corner of his eye.

And then he caught with a partial lock. It twisted, wildly, denying the kill.

Another partial. He lost it again, firing anyway, the laser blasts scorching the air.

And then he got the tone.

'_Target lock'_.

He opened fire, guns realigning themselves, shearing off its right wing. It corkscrewed, out of control, and tumbled towards the snow-capped mountains below.

-----------

The transport shook once more, whether from impact from some sort of projectile or simply a shockwave Sonic could not tell. The air had never been his arena.

It had never been Sally's either- that much was obvious from how tightly she was gripping his hand and staring out the window at the carnage beyond.

"Reinforcements have arrived my liege," a uniformed bodyguard said to King Maximilian Acorn, sitting across the aisle from them. The plane shook again, nearly bowling the Mobian over.

The king nodded, saying nothing, dismissing the bodyguard with a glance. They all looked out from the windows.

Absolute chaos met them; various fighter planes tore up the sky, twisting, spinning, killing.

One of Robotnik's fighters exploded, courtesy of one of the new Thunderbolts.

The King looked over at his daughter Sally and Sonic, her fiancée, a strange smile creasing his features.

"You see? The best pilots. We are perfectly safe."

Sonic found that he could not believe that. In his past, he had faced more dangers than he could count, but every time when he lived in Knothole with the Freedom Fighters he had been in control- he had been on the ground where his speed had given him the advantage.

But in the air, he was nothing.

-----------

"Nice one sir," Darren called. Tails twisted away from the flailing wreckage of the 'bot, and brought himself around to get a good look at what was going on.

Not good. The transport was sending out a steady stream of grey smoke from a portside engine, and its paintjob was scorched and tarnished from laser fire.

And then he spotted Ferrell.

And a bat pulling up behind him.

"Watch it Ten, you've got one on your tail" he called, turning about.

"Wh- I can't see him!" Tails could almost see the monkey looking around inside his cockpit, trying to spot the pursuer.

Tails could see it clearly.

"Four, where are you?" he snapped. The Gs kicked out, pushing him into his seat. Tails did what he could to ignore them. He was desperate.

"Got my hands full sir!" Faye replied. "I'm way too popular over here!"

"Understood, keep dancing. Two, Seven, give her a hand, I'll handle this."

The bat opened fire, red lightning searing out towards Ten's Thunderbolt. Ferrell twisted away, his potential showing, but the bat trailed closely.

Tails came up onto its six smoothly, and let out a quick, futile burst. To distract it only- an aimed shot, missing, could hit Raven Ten, and that was a risk he would not take.

"Get it off me!" Ferrell called, looping. The bat and Tails followed.

'_Target denied'._

'_Target denied'._

'_Target denied'._

And then the chime he needed to hear. The Thunderbolt's guns realigned slightly, and found their mark.

'_Target lock'._

Tails fired. So did the bat. For a brief second he heard Ferrell scream in terror as his ammunition was struck. The Thunderbolt detonated, shards of metal being blown away from what looked like a miniature sun.

Raven Ten's transmission was cut short into static.

"Ferrell!" Tails screamed into his mask, stunned. His fault. Not fast enough. Fool.

He heard his squadron echo his cry.

"Raven Leader, what's happening?" came an all-too calm voice.

"We've got a man down, Raven Ten confirmed destroyed," Tails snapped back, feeling sick. "Pull it together, Ravens! Eyes open! If you pick one up, watch it!" No time to dwell. Eyes to your front. He could be shocked later. He had to fight now.

He had to ignore the remains of his fellow pilot as they were gently scattered over the mountains below.

----------

One Thunderbolt down. King Acorn did not look particularly disturbed.

Sally had seen it all- the explosion had been so raw, so powerful, she could not help but imagine the horror the pilot must have felt in those moments before his or her death.

One of Robotnik's fighters suddenly came at them, badly-aimed shots sparking the air around the transport. A Thunderbolt cut up near them, twisting to it's side. One of four rockets burst out from beneath a wing, leaving a pearl-white trail as it arced in on the enemy.

It died so close that they felt parts of it's hull pepper their transport. The Thunderbolt completed it's turn, twisting around as it passed.

For a moment, Sally fancied that she caught the eye of the pilot- and the stylised, twin-tailed marking beneath his cockpit canopy.

And then he was gone, evasive manoeuvres tearing him from sight.

Elsewhere, she saw another Thunderbolt die.

----------

Pulling back, turning wide. The throttle was screaming, his body was aching. And still Raven Squadron fought on.

Tails' Thunderbolt was now decorated with a series of scorch marks. He was lucky. Others were not. Raven Eight's death scream still rung in his ears.

They could not go on like this. Nor could the royal transport- sporadic black smoke trailed behind it, spluttering like a bad cough.

"Royal, this is Raven Leader. Here's the deal. Drop by 4000 meters, hug the mountains."

"Understood, keep us covered!"

Thank Aurora, the pilot was no idiot. Robotnik's fighters were not at all as skilled as a real pilot when initiative came into play, so if they could lure them down towards the mountains then they might be able to use some of them as cover.

The transport began to descend rapidly. Two bats broke from the dogfight to follow it.

"Five, Nine, with me, down with Royal," he said.

"Copy that Lead, I'm with you." Tyler.

"With you, sir!" Damon.

His Thunderbolt twisted and dropped, cutting in behind Robotnik's fighters. They noticed the three Thunderbolts immediately and began to jink all over.

"I've got left." He aligned his sights over the bat, not waiting for confirmation. There was a tone- lock, and he fired. He hit something. Shrapnel flew, blasting away like a firework. The bat disappeared.

"It's gone high!" Five called. He looked up, spotted it spinning skywards into the blue on a vertical plane. It was trailing smoke- Aurora willing, it was going home.

"Five, hit your target," he replied.

"Nine here, I'm on it!"

.70 dum-dum rounds burst out. Missed. The bat twisted onto its starboard wing and broke wide.

"Where is he? I can't see him!"

Tails could see the boy clearly, pulling back. A terrible climb. Tyler was with him. A bat came from nowhere, spitting death.

He heard Damon scream in panic but Tyler was there, covering him just as Tails had asked her to. The bat redirected to her and they exchanged fire.

More shrapnel, her canopy shattered. Part of a wing and part of a rudder. The bat burst past. Tails made a vector thrust, twisting his Thunderbolt tail-over-nose, dropping down to chase the drone.

"Five! Tyler! Respond!"

There was no answer for a moment, and he swore.

"I'm fine," she said abruptly.

"Five?"

"I'm fine."

----------

"That's it! We're free!"

The ecstatic voice of one of the crewmen flowed down the transport, and the passengers immediately responded with cheers and applause. Sally found herself carefully releasing a breath she hadn't known she was holding. After all, she was pretty close to vomiting after that sudden drop.

Honestly, she had thought the transport was about to crash.

"You alright?" Sonic asked her.

"Yeah, just shaken a bit. I'll be fine."

They were interrupted by a member of her personal staff- an adviser, and long-time friend to both of them.

"Ya alright?" Bunnie D'Coolette asked, standing in the aisle and supporting herself by holding one of the chairs with her one robotic arm.

"Yes, where have you been?

"Wi' tha pilot, seems the fight is still goin' on back there. Raven Squadron are keepin' them distracted."

"We'll have to thank them later," Sally said firmly, Sonic nodding his agreement.

"Yes," the King mused. "What was that again, Mrs. D'Coolette? Raven Squadron?"

"Yeah, Sire." She paused for a moment. "Sally-girl, I tol' ya it wuz dangerous t' come here."

"It can't be helped Bunnie, you know why we have to."

----------

"Control, this is Raven Leader. Enemy contacts are breaking and running for home, I repeat, they're going home. Awaiting orders."

"Copy that Raven Leader. Royal is making its way to us, uploading its position to you now. Catch up and give escort home."

"Understood. Raven squadron, close up, leave them be. Move in on me."

The fighting all but over, Tails brought his bird up towards the purple blot on his HUD. The squadron – what was left of it – formed up around him. Including himself, there were eight planes left. Two kids had died today. One of his vets, he was sure, had problems, and Raven Seven was jetting out a steady stream of smoke.

And he was slowly falling away from the formation.

"Raven Seven, what is your status?" he called. The response was a garbled mix of static and words.

"Say again seven, slowly."

"I—locked, pulling back. I— hold it—"

He was falling further away.

"Seven, pull up."

"—can't—"

"Seven, pull-up!"

He was approaching the mountains.

"Raven seven! Cain! Bail out!"

"—can hold it!"

"Bail! Now! That is an order!"

He heard more voiced echoing his command over the open channel, but no more responses from Seven. He leant forwards, trying to get a view from his canopy. He saw the Thunderbolt, trailing black smoke and flame now, falling further and further down.

Tails prayed to see a parachute.

And then it hit a snow-capped peak. A ball of flame flared up, causing a short avalanche around it. Tails watched in grief- no sign of life, no answer on the radio. No sign of a parachute at all.

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Many thanks go to Tantrum and TailstheFox for their pre-reading advice. Cheers guys!

Comments are most welcome. Also, some of you may have noticed that I have taken aircraft from Warhammer 40,000 as inspiration- mainly because I just wanted to write the dogfight instead of invent planes, so let it be known that I did not create them!


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